


Grant Us

by Helicon



Series: Reasons Not To Stroke Helicon's Author Ego [1]
Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: (I guess?) - Freeform, Breeding Kink, Egg Laying, Foursome - F/F/F/M, Gen, Multi, Omorashi, Oviposition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 14:05:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11602182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helicon/pseuds/Helicon
Summary: Micotrash gets egged for enlightenment (but mostly to create everybody's favorite corpse party monster).





	Grant Us

**Author's Note:**

> I have no excuse nor reasonable explanation. Take this for what it is: unedited, unbetad, and uncut. I'm not sorry.

The Pthumerian woman loomed over Micolash, knelt between his legs, her companions at his sides, him in their arms a couple inches off the lecture hall floor. His communion with the Great One, the formless Oedon, had succeeded -- through the chime maidens, but succeeded no less. It made enough sense that a god with no form would forcibly take one to fulfill their agreement the way it had been planned.

In their quest for ascension the School of Mensis desired to create a Great One of their own, but it was an impossible feat without even just a little outside assistance. Micolash knew, and since Kos would not answer him, this was the next place to turn. Oedon had readily agreed, through the mouth of the forefront maiden, but on the condition that his contribution be carried out through the School’s head himself.

It was only moments before this that Micolash fully understood the terms, but he was not afraid. To take a scholarly stance, now that was more his speed! His people’s Great One would come of this union and through its creation they would come ever closer to enlightenment. The grip of the first maiden’s bony hands on his hips tightened, pulled on the fabric of his pants, tossed them to the side where his shoes and robes had been previously discarded. The whispers of the other women in his ears sent shocks shooting down his spine that pooled as a warmth at its base. In moments, mere moments, he would be the vessel.

The first maiden lifted his hips above the rest of his body, bent her head down and with the deep timbre of a male, chuckled and began to open him up with her tongue. Her warm breath made the sparse hairs on his inner thighs stand. Her tongue circled his hole; as another maiden held his lower body up for her she spread him with her fingers. Slowly, one at a time, and with every finger inside him Micolash’s gasps rose in pitch. One maiden placed her lips upon his jaw to suck and bite the skin as another stroked his hair, relaxing him enough to be penetrated by the first’s tongue.

His hips jerked to the side before they were held firmer. Just out of his range of vision he saw her hand reach downwards, and when she straightened, expose an organ the length of his forearm but still half the width. From his limited perspective it didn't seem attached, but still she wielded it like one would their own cock. The bulb-shaped head pressed against his entrance and he accepted it eagerly, hissing through his teeth as it stretched him further but still pushing his body down on it.

Runes flickered in his mind: a command to be steady, calm. Patient. It would come but he needed to wait.

One Pthumerian hand crept down his torso, gently touching the flesh through his shirt, distended by the sheer size and depth the first maiden’s cock had reached. When her still-clothed hips met Micolash’s backside, her length had nearly disappeared beneath his skin, as deep as she could go. His hand fell just below the other woman’s as he traced the outline, light-headed but still with a lopsided smirk of arousal and intrigue.

She pulled out an inch, the exit far smoother than the entry, and pushed back in with a slimy-sounding pop. Wetness trickled down his thighs in tandem with an interesting pressure beginning to form inside him and slightly rounding out his stomach right between his hips. His head fell back, his bottom lip quivered, and all the while his heart was fluttering in his chest from anticipation alone. One of the maidens giggled in his ear, stroking beneath his shirt where he caught her hand in his.

“You are ready,” whispered the maiden by the side of his head.

There really was no arguing. Micolash had been ready for this for what felt like ages. Words failed him, but he nodded, grasped her hand tight as the first maiden clutched his hips and drove her cock in to the head. Somehow he was looser, empty despite the invading organ and no matter how tight he clenched around it there was no satisfaction. When he reached down to touch himself a maiden gingerly restrained him. “Do not interfere,” she commanded. “Let us enact Oedon’s will.”

Just then he stretched further around a peculiar lump traveling up inside of him, that brushed against a nerve and sent a jolt through his entire body. Aroused as he was, it brought him no relief, and much less did the other maidens’ fingers roaming over his chest. It settled low inside his belly, invisible from the outside but not without weight -- the first of many to come, the voice beside his conscience told him. Another, bigger, pushed the first egg further in. With the hand on his stomach, if he focused, Micolash could feel the two eggs jostling each other for space.

The fluid pumped into him to precede the eggs had effectively made his flesh more elastic, a fact he’d discovered for sure when it seemed that his body had hit its limit. The boulder-like weight of the Great One’s eggs brought him down into the maidens’ arms despite no outward changes, labored his breathing, but the one between his legs still didn't cease. Pressure built inside him, bearing heavily upon his organs until the maidens lifted him up to sit. Gravity would not be on his side, and indeed the first maiden struggled to impregnate him further as the eggs inside him shifted, downwards, drastically accentuating the curve of his belly and dropping it into his spread lap. The buttons near the hem of his shirt split instantly.

“Turn over,” said another maiden. “On all fours so we may finish.”

“What…?”

The maiden chuckled. “We are far from done.” She stroked his faintly distended middle. “Or did you think creating a Great One would only take one?”

One? Were they ensuring his goal by filling him with so many potential Great Ones that there was bound to be something viable? Or did she mean...

With a heave and a struggle and help from the maidens occupied with his body, Micolash got on his hands and knees, the eggs shifting inside of him as they were jostled again. The first maiden repositioned herself directly behind him, her hands on his cheeks and thrusting into him, slow and shallow, to make room for the rest of the clutch. The voice of Oedon rumbled in his head once again, that he could only carry so much. This would only be the first.

Micolash shuddered at the sensation of a ghostly hand caressing his stomach, which was steadily growing now that the maiden had hit her stride and started filling the space that the first half had fled with their equally dense and heavy siblings.

Siblings, thought the scholar. A peculiar concept, they'll all become the same thing… Still, a warmth blossomed unbidden in his chest and he put up no protest when the other maidens began to touch him. Next to Mensis itself, this would be his greatest achievement.

Soon all coherent thought was replaced with static as his back arched downward, and when he looked, the rest of his buttons had torn from their places and fallen to the floor, leaving his shirt open and his skin stretched and itchy. Lumps beneath the skin told him where most of the eggs were exactly, and every light touch of the maidens’ fingers sent shivers through him. One maiden absently fingered his now-shallow navel as the one behind him hilted her cock, came, and pushed it all the way out as the bumps beneath his skin disappeared. Even as she pulled out, he still felt full, and after a weak experimental clench Micolash found that she had effectively plugged him up. A messy biological stopper to prevent him from pushing the eggs out before they were developed.

From the angle that he could see, it looked like he'd engaged a little too thoroughly in a large meal. He had always been unnaturally skinny, the waist of his pants often dug into his sharp hipbones, but hell if he could make them out now. Ass in the air, Micolash’s head dropped into his folded arms as he struggled for a proper breath, murmuring nonsense as the fluttering feeling migrated down his abdomen. Gravity (or a maiden) hauled him onto his side where one hand curled under his belly, pressing down gently to feel for an egg beneath all the fluids inside him, and he sighed dreamily before drifting off.

Morning found him in his bed alone, the weight of the previous night’s endeavors making it difficult for him to get up. Instead, he laid back with his legs spread and stared at the ceiling, hands folded over his chest.

This wouldn't be the first. Somehow, the thought that more would come later sent Micolash’s sharp mind into a haze. Subconsciously his thighs rubbed together as he further entertained the idea that this weak, flawed human body would at least serve some greater purpose before his enlightenment. One hand roamed downwards, though he found himself having to stretch to be able to finger himself now. He was knuckle-deep before hitting the plug and resigned himself to stroking, the heel of his palm bumping gently against him in a circular rhythm. Quiet breaths came out as he rode out the pressure building inside him, too fast and heavy to be his coming release, but he thought nothing of it -- he came soon enough anyway, dry, but still panting and giving himself light touches here and there. The weight of the eggs prolonged it unnaturally, bearing down heavily on his bladder until thin, hot liquid coated his fingers and spurted onto the bedsheets.

He couldn't quite see. Had the plug melted? Had he…

Micolash’s face blanched in disgust as he realized what he'd done, and, reluctant, hauled himself out of bed. One hand braced on his back and the other beneath his stomach, he stood for just a moment before his knees buckled, he stumbled, and the eggs inside him shifted. He groaned, his back creaked as it arched and suddenly changing the sheets seemed an impossible task. Moving both hands to his front, he laid back down, seething.

Somehow, when he looked again, he looked a little bigger than he did yesterday. Were they growing inside of him? It was entirely possible given how he hadn't felt solid shells, but what little elasticity he'd had earlier was gone now. There was no room left; every little inch of space was gone now, and to the touch it was as if he had been filled with jelly instead of eggs. The fluids were gone, likely absorbed. They trembled inside, and an overwhelming instinct drove Micolash to rub small circles into his side to calm them. It didn't work, and the vibrating of the eggs inside his belly only brought him to arousal once more.

Decades of taking care of this body was becoming tedious, but before he could touch himself again something thick began to leak slowly from between his legs. The tremors grew in intensity, sending worse flutters throughout him and his heart soaring as he realized what was coming next.

Logic directed him to the bath while his legs would hold him. The eggs were soft, wet most likely, and would need water again. As he waited for the tub to fill he knelt inside it, clutching the rim while his thighs spread beneath him. About halfway through he was caught off guard by the sensation of being filled once more, but now from the inside. An egg slightly smaller than a chicken’s fell into the shallow water with a splash.

Hanging half over the edge of the tub as the clutch made its exit, Micolash stifled his moans and tried not to feel too good about the unearthly presence he couldn't see but still knew was there, behind him, arms wrapped around his middle because it sure wasn't him coaxing these eggs out. A particularly large one started its descent and no amount of help from the ghostly visitor seemed to be getting it back on course when it became stuck. Micolash bore down on it like he hadn't needed to do for the rest, straining and panting until it joined its brethren and he was left, breathless, to lean back finally and watch as several smaller eggs simply fell out after it.

The tub was just about full by the time he finished, and the eggs floated into the end opposite where the scholar sat, legs splayed, taking a moment to recover. The presence -- Oedon, he was sure of it -- hadn't left him for a moment. Though his body was beginning to slowly return to normal, the relief was short-lived. Only an hour after the final egg had been birthed, and Micolash attempted to rise from the bathtub, he was pushed back down into the water by a familiar weight building up and then bulging out beneath his ribs.


End file.
